


Past and Present Danger

by MsImpala67



Series: Across the Millenia [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Witch AU, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsImpala67/pseuds/MsImpala67
Summary: An introduction to my coven!verse. Jared and Jensen are powerful witches, over a thousand years spent together. They drift from place to place with their coven, experiencing everything the world and the changing times have to offer, experiencing each other over and over again, lifetimes between them of something more powerful than simple love.But the centuries of life hold a past, one that might not be as far gone as they thought.





	Past and Present Danger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I have a (NSFW) blog dedicated to this specific 'verse/au!
> 
> spncovenverse.tumblr.com 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this first installment of their story!
> 
> And a very special thank you to justanothersaltandburn, who is the backbone of this whole idea. Thank you, my darling friend.

**_1982_ **

There’s nowhere else worth being tonight but in the city. The hot summer air smells like asphalt after a rain, a surprisingly fresh scent amidst the stink of the city, the trash and the sweat and the smoke hovering over everything. That stink is a smell that every New York City native loves and everyone else hates, a smell that becomes part of a person while he’s in it regardless of his personal feelings about it.

Jared’s already sweating in his jacket. It’s too hot to be wearing it, but where he’s going, clothes are never about the weather. The safety pins and metal studs decorating the black leather don’t really hide the fact that the jacket is new, though they probably should. It won’t fit in at the club this way, especially with his designer jeans and his half-combed hair. 

He’s lacking the poverty of the underground culture here, the garish color and grit of it. 

But he has an abundance of the passion and the anger, so maybe he _does_ belong there tonight.

He can hear the drums and bass thumping from a block away. It makes his dick hard as he walks down the sidewalk, ignoring the few glances he gets from women and men looking for a fight or a fuck or both. A silent nod is all he gets from the bouncer at the door. No need for more than that, as he has spent practically the entire summer here, simmering in the music and the alcohol while he waits for the sun to come up. He nods back, slides a twenty dollar bill into the man’s hand and heads inside. 

Once the door closes behind him, he can’t hear a thing except the band. People are screaming at each other or at nothing at all, bottles are being dropped, a fight is going on in the corner. But it’s almost as if none of it exists, as if the only real thing is the man on stage wailing into a microphone, the guitar and bass on either side of him, and the woman slamming away at the drums. 

Jared doesn’t bother looking for Jensen. He just stands still for a moment and waits.

The pull is instantaneous and strong, practiced over a thousand years, an instinct instead of a choice now. He moves with it until he’s right behind Jensen, close enough to touch. Jensen doesn’t turn around or look away from the band. He sticks his hand out behind him instead and curls it around Jared’s, pulling until Jared’s arm is wrapped around him and resting on his stomach. They watch the band that way for a couple of songs, the only two people not thrashing around or screaming along. They stick out, but no one stares or says anything to them. No one even comes near them. Maybe it’s the vibe they give off. Maybe it’s something more. Jared doesn’t care what it is, he’s just glad of it. 

When they’ve had enough, Jensen turns and walks toward the door with Jared on his heels, moving like a unit, like one body. Which isn’t entirely inaccurate. 

The night air hits them as they reach the street, but there’s no cool rush or relief in it. Jared’s just as sweaty as he’s been all night when Jensen pushes him against the bricks of the building, pushes his hand into the back pocket of Jared’s jeans. He squeezes a little, then grabs the joint and the lighter Jared keeps there.

“People can see,” Jared comments, hips still grinding into Jensen’s.

Jensen lights the joint and blows the smoke directly into Jared’s mouth, letting their lips touch as he does. It’s sweet, a combination of herbs they’ve perfected over time, guaranteed to relax them without leaving them unable to focus. 

“Are you worried about the smoke or the sex?” Jensen asks. 

Jared doesn’t answer. He’s not worried about anything. He hasn’t been worried about anything in decades. It’s starting to eat away him. 

Jensen takes another drag, turning his head this time when he blows the smoke away, then drops the joint on the ground. He stomps it out with a leather boot that matches Jared’s jacket, too nice to be standing on this street in this part of town. 

Their hips are still touching, cocks lazily starting to react the more they move. 

“Why are we here?” Jensen asks.

“Because I heard the band was good. And you were already on this side of town.”

Jensen shrugs his broad shoulders, a gesture that looks strange on his frame since he still carries himself with an ancient posture and stature, one that doesn’t deign to ‘shrug’. “The band’s not bad,” he allows. 

They can still hear the drumbeat, sultry and driving now. Slowly, Jensen begins to move with it. His hands find Jared’s hips and they’re dancing, grinding together out in the open for anyone to see. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen’s neck and lets him do what he wants, lets Jensen sway and thrust and bend to the music while he tilts his head back and stares at the stars, none of them as beautiful as the man against him. 

“Come on,” Jensen finally says. “Let’s go home.”

Their apartment is in the clean, safer part of the city. The penthouse is sleek and modern, spacious and sparsely decorated in the common rooms. The smaller rooms, the personal ones, are cozier. Lived in. Filled with the most important treasures they’ve collected. 

Misha’s waiting on the large couch in the front room when they arrive. “It’s time to move on, isn’t it?” he says, bright blue eyes a little sad. 

Jared nods. “I think so.”

Jensen sits down on the couch and throws an arm around Misha, pulling him in for a wet kiss. “I’m sorry.”

Misha shakes his head and stands up. “That’s the way it goes.” There’s no malice in his voice, just a sorrowful resignation. He loves New York. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course,” Jensen answers. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

They wait until Misha’s out of the room to talk.

“We hadn’t decided anything,” Jensen says. He’s not accusing, just curious. Jared may technically be the high priest of their coven, but he doesn’t make decisions alone. He never has. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just spring that on you. I just felt it today. We’re done here.”

“I know.” Of course Jensen knows. If Jared felt it, Jensen felt it. “I’m just surprised at the hurry you’re in. LA?”

Jared nods. “I felt like London up until last week. But there’s something waiting for us in LA. I know it. I want to leave as soon as we can.”

Jensen stands up and stretches, the light catching his earrings and making him look his body’s age instead of his soul’s. “We can leave tomorrow.” A smirk spreads across his lips. “As soon as we’ve fucked Misha into next week.”

Misha’s still undressing when they get to their bedroom, humming tunelessly under his breath. Jared takes a second to smile at the tattoos stretching across the muscles of his back, ancient magic mixed with his favorite song lyrics, all entirely contradictory and all entirely Misha. 

Jensen’s grinning, too. “Do you want to start or should I?” 

“He’s all yours,” Jared says, leaning down to untie his own black boots as Jensen crosses the room and kisses the back of Misha’s neck. 

The heat of the summer seems to collect and settle in Jared’s gut as he watches them. Jensen’s tongue has always been sinful, has always been able to do things even their magic can’t. He watches as Jensen traces Misha’s tattoos, knows exactly how it feels and why Misha moans so loudly at such a simple touch. 

“You wanna help me get his underwear off?” Jensen’s voice is low, rough and dangerous like his mood tonight. 

“I just want to watch for now.” Jared settles into the chair, long legs stretched out before him, eyes following the movements as Jensen walks Misha toward the bed. Jensen takes a moment to pull away, strip out of his own clothing, folding it neatly just to stretch out the time Misha has to stare at him.

Misha is already a little lost, eyes unfocused, muscles loose and pliant. On any given day, his power rivals Jensen’s and Jared’s, intimidatingly ruthless and all-consuming. But when he’s with them, he’s so beautifully submissive that no one would ever know what lies inside. Jensen shoves his underwear down, and Misha steps out of it only to fall to his knees, eyes on the floor, shoulders straight but relaxed, like one finger could push him over. 

Waiting for whatever they want to do with him. To him. 

It makes Jared hard for the second, or maybe third, time tonight to watch Jensen as he sizes Misha up. Jared can feel what he’s thinking, the predatory instinct as he circles Misha, dragging his fingertips over his chest and shoulder blades as he moves. 

“On the bed,” Jensen finally says, and Misha lets out a breath of relief, like he’s been waiting all day just to get his orders, like Jensen has just given his life purpose. They’ve done this before, and Misha knows how to lie on the bed, how to get on his back and let his head hang off at just the right angle, mouth open and ready. 

Jared loosens his jeans as Jensen slides right into Misha’s mouth, not stopping until his balls are smashed against Misha’s nose and Jared can see the line of his cock bulging in Misha’s throat. Jensen’s ass clenches a little, but that’s the only movement he makes, the only sign that he’s doing anything other than standing there, possibly a little bored. Misha swallows, throat constricting like he maybe wants to gag, but he doesn’t. Not yet. 

“You sure you just want to watch?” Jensen asks, voice light and conversational, like he doesn’t have a man choking on his dick. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. He can finish me off when you’re done.” Jared presses the heel of his hand into his now bare erection, and Jensen slowly licks his lips before nodding.

“Or maybe we both can.”

“Whatever you want.”

Jensen turns back to Misha then, like he’s just remembering his existence. And now that he’s politely offered Jared his turn, there’s nothing holding him back. Spit is already leaking from the sides of Misha’s full lips, making the first thrust of Jensen’s hips wet enough to squelch through the room. Misha groans at that, a muffled sound that catches in his throat, makes it constrict around the head of Jensen’s cock. 

Jared can’t take his eyes off of them. Jensen fucks Misha’s face deep and hard, ignoring the couple of times he fucks a gag out of him, pushes a little too deep for Misha to keep any kind of control. Jared loves the way Jensen ruts, the way his ass works with the effort of it, the way his shoulders stay strong and squared and totally in control, the way he smacks Misha’s hand away when Misha tries to touch himself. 

And he loves when he feels the tingle of the magic in Jensen’s veins. As Jensen gets closer and closer to losing it, he closes his eyes and thinks about Jared, pushes the sensations out until they’re sharing them, until it’s as if Jared has his cock down Misha’s throat as well. 

Jared grunts, hand working himself faster now.

“Don’t come,” Jensen barks, and he’s talking to both of them. 

Misha holds still, groans loudly when Jensen falls forward and pins his arms to the bed, slams into his mouth one final time and then comes, loud and wet and hot. Jared moves his hand away, knowing that he can’t handle touching himself and watching Jensen shake through his orgasm.

Jensen gives Misha no time to recover. He pulls away, leaving Misha’s mouth a red wreck of spit and come, and nods toward Jared’s chair. Misha instantly scrambles off the bed and crawls over, grasping at Jared’s knees like he’s hungry and desperate, sinking down onto Jared’s cock and sucking hard. 

He doesn’t deep throat, knowing that Jared has to be in just the right mood for that, that the head of his cock is the most sensitive part and that’s where he generally wants Misha’s mouth to stay. Misha licks and sucks and swallows, presses his tongue into the slit, scrapes his teeth just underneath the head, using his hand to massage Jared’s balls the entire time. 

Jared stares into those blue eyes as he comes, not moving a muscle other than to clench his hands on the arms of the chair, one low growl escaping him as Misha closes his mouth and lets Jared make a mess of his lips and chin. Jensen is suddenly right there, kneeling to lick at Misha’s face, to kiss Jared’s softening cock reverently.

“Come here.” Jared sits a little straighter, pulls his knees up so that Misha can straddle his lap. 

Jared slowly drags a hand over his own messy dick, then Misha’s face, slicking his hand up before finally giving Misha some relief, jacking him off slow and satisfying, letting Misha make his own claim all over Jared’s stomach. He even lets Misha sit there for a minute, foreheads pressed together as he works to calm his breathing. 

Eventually, Misha slides off Jared’s lap and stands up, an equal again instead of the perfect obedient thing he’d been seconds earlier. 

“So. Where are we going?”

Jensen’s already headed toward the bathroom and the giant shower that takes up more space than a normal apartment’s bedroom. Jared and Misha follow. 

“Los Angeles. I told Jensen earlier that I thought it would be London, but.”

Misha shakes his head. “No. Los Angeles feels...interesting.”

Jensen snorts. “Not you, too. LA will probably just be a bunch of rich, preppy assholes who spend all of their time tanning and getting their hair bleached. It all just seems too...pretty.”

Misha smacks his ass and steps into the spray of the shower. “You’ll fit right in, then.”

Jared laughs for the first time that day, the sound a little too loud as it echoes off the tiles. Jensen’s probably offended at Misha’s words, but he can’t help but grin at Jared’s reaction. 

“It’s where we are supposed to be,” he tells Jensen again. “Just trust me.”

Misha averts his eyes as they kiss, some things still a little too intimate to be shared no matter how many centuries they spend together. 

“Of course I trust you,” Jensen whispers. “Always.”

********

Rob sulks when they tell him they’re leaving. He doesn’t argue, knows that it only makes him sound whiny and ungrateful, two things he most certainly isn’t. But there’s a set to his jaw that makes him look a little like a child discovering that life isn’t fair. 

It’s probably frustrating, Jared knows. Rob settles into places, gets comfortable, wants to belong. They’ve only been in New York a few months, but Rob has already formed a band, gotten a couple new piercings, bleached his hair like Billy Idol. The apartment that he shares with Rich and Osric looks lived in, settled in a way Jared and Jensen’s never does. But that's because Jared and Jensen's original home is long gone, and their current home is each other. They have no need for this ‘nesting’, as Rich calls it.

Jared hides a smile and clasps Rob’s chin, forces him to look up into his eyes. Without a word, he lets the touch turn to something more, lets Rob see what he can see about Los Angeles. That something is calling them there.

Rob sighs and nods, resigned. 

“We can always come back here in the future,” Jared tells him, letting the touch turn into a comforting stroke. 

“Sure, not like we’re getting any older,” Rich chimes in, already half-packed and practically bouncing with the idea of a new adventure. 

“When are you two coming?” Rob asks, glancing over at Jensen.

“Tomorrow,” Jared answers. “Misha and Osric left this morning to get us all a place. They’re expecting you tonight. You’re flying first class, if that helps,” he teases. 

“A little,” Rob grins. 

“We’ll leave you to it, then.” Jensen stands from their worn couch and nods. “We have things to take care of tonight. Merry meet.”

Rob replies automatically, a real smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Merry part.”

“And merry meet again,” Jensen finishes, playfully punching Rob in the shoulder, a gesture like he might actually be trying to fit into the present time after all.

When they are back in their penthouse alone, Jared pulls him close. There’s not much to pack, not much to worry about. Most of their belongings are scattered around the world in storage lockers and protected vaults. Clothes and trinkets are easily replaced and can be left right here. Which means their time tonight is going to be spent with each other.

Jared doesn’t remember when it became a tradition, almost a ritual, to say goodbye to places together, just the two of them. Maybe around the time modern life made it necessary for them to say goodbye to places every few years instead of every few lifetimes.

They stand at the huge windows and stare out over the city together, watching the hustle, the rush and buzz of life beneath them. It’s early, just past lunchtime, and it’s a different city during the day. People are professional, drinking out of cardboard coffee cups instead of brown paper bags, their clothes held together by the thread of the seams rather than safety pins, hair combed and under control. 

But the energy is still there. Jared still feels the pulse of it, the drumbeat of their feet on the ground. Even now, when it’s all subdued and proper, Jared sees the wildness, the edge to everyone’s movements that brought him here in the first place. He craved the desperation, wanted to _want_ the way this city did.

Jensen’s watching him now instead of the movement below. “Eating out tonight or ordering in?”

“Whichever you’d rather.”

Jensen nods, then grins, a familiar expression that has followed Jared throughout history, warm and exciting and wicked and so full of something more than love that it pushes Jared’s heart into his throat. 

That look is all it takes for Jared to move, to slowly circle behind Jensen and tug his shirt up over his head. Jensen turns, their mouths meeting as they tug off the rest of their clothes, only breaking apart when Jared’s shirt gets caught against their chins. He grunts when Jared shoves him against the window, palms smacking flat, nothing but clear glass and fifteen floors separating them and the people below. Jared kneels long enough to get his hands on Jensen’s thick thighs, to shove them apart and push his tongue right into Jensen’s hole, as far as he can get it, making Jensen’s toes curl. 

Still riding the mood of the night before, the mood of the city itself, Jared doesn’t go slow. He stands, lines himself up, and shoves right inside of Jensen, dry and with no preparation, just to feel how tight Jensen is. 

“Fuck,” Jensen grunts, but it’s not a curse or plea to be more gentle. It’s an endearment, a _please yes more_. They’ve mastered this, too, riding the line of pain and pleasure until they’re the same, until both are just an expression of how their souls are connected. 

Jared hears the squeak of Jensen’s cock as it rubs against the window, and almost comes right then, imagining what it would be like to be on the street, to look up and see Jensen, tall and broad and solid, his pink cock smashed against the glass, leaving smudges of precome, his face contorted in pleasure. 

Jared pushes deeper, thrusts with the animal instinct this place brings out, forcing Jensen to his tiptoes with each rut. They let themselves come quickly, Jared’s movements turning wet and warm inside of Jensen as he fills him up, Jensen letting his head fall back on Jared’s shoulder as he shudders, his cock freely spurting without being touched at all. 

Jared’s hand rests on Jensen’s stomach as they stand there, catching their breath, and Jensen covers it with his own, fingers entwining. 

“Ordering in,” Jensen decides, making Jared chuckle as he slowly pulls out of him. 

They both look at the mess on the window, at Jensen’s come starting to thicken there as it dries. 

“Leave it for now,” Jared smirks. They kiss hard, lips pushing together until it almost hurts, then reach for their clothes. 

The rest of the day is quiet. Jared writes in a journal, the one he bought when they came here, black leather with a gold clasp. He tries to capture their time here in New York, tries to paint a picture vivid enough that he’ll remember everything when he reads it decades from now, that he’ll remember the dirty smell of the club and the gleam of Jensen’s skin under the dim lights inside. 

Jensen sips scotch and silently watches him. Sometimes, Jared wonders about the journals in Jensen’s mind. He never writes anything down, but there’s nothing he’s forgotten. He remembers just like Jared does. And as much as they share, as much as they can feel what the other is feeling, go for weeks without speaking out loud and still communicate perfectly, Jared will never be able to see their life through Jensen’s eyes, with shades of green filtering and calming the things that flash bright red inside of Jared. 

Jensen eventually orders dinner, knows without asking what Jared’s in the mood for, doesn’t interrupt Jared’s writing until the food is sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for them. 

“Dinner’s ready.”

Jared turns his head and nuzzles at Jensen’s hand on his shoulder, kissing over his knuckles. “I think I’d rather eat you.”

Jensen snorts. “Later.”

They eat at the kitchen island, clean up by simply tossing everything into the trash, then head to their rooms. The bedroom itself is easy to pack up, just one small suitcase each of essentials to last them a week or two until they can replace their wardrobe. Jensen adds the picture frame sitting on the nightstand to his things, the one holding a picture of him and Jared standing outside the club, black eyeliner standing out underneath the neon sign, Misha a few feet away, holding a cigarette and totally unaware the picture is being taken. Jared makes room for the small box they keep under the bed that holds their lube and their current favorite sex toys, a ball gag, a leather flogger, and two cock cages made specially to fit each of them. 

It only takes about twenty minutes, and then it’s time to pack up the other room. It stays locked on the rare occasions when they have company, but the door opens easily for them, like it knows it’s time to leave. There, they spend a few hours filling old wooden chests, securing books that are close to falling apart, packing up herbs and charms, crystals, their small altars. 

“Should we put any of this in storage?” Jensen asks, eyeing a stack of books. 

“Maybe a few things,” Jared answers skeptically. But everything they keep with them is too personal, too powerful, or too necessary for them to put away. “If we do, remind me to look for that old robe I was telling Misha about last week. He wants to see it.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, but nods. 

When everything is sealed up and ready to go, the directions left for the people Jared will hire to ship these things out as fast as money will allow, they slip into bed. 

“I hope the place they found has room for all of us.” Jared tangles his fingers with Jensen’s, bodies slotting together close enough to look and feel like one. “I don’t like being scattered like we were here.”

“We all live on the same block,” Jensen says, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yeah, well. Even so.”

Jensen nods. “LA is different that New York. Should be pretty easy to find a real house.”

“Wonder what else we’ll find there.”

Jared’s sure that Jensen feels it just as strongly now himself, not just the echo of it coming from Jared. It’s a pull, a magnetic force drawing them there, something powerful and strong. Jared hasn’t felt anything like it in a couple hundred years.

“I guess we’ll see.” Jensen leans over and kisses him, soft and slow, just to kiss, just to feel their lips together. “Goodnight, _elskan min_.”

Jared kisses him again and lets those words sink into his chest, into his soul.

********

Misha has indeed found them a real house. One that’s big enough for everyone. He calls Jensen and Jared with the address just before they leave the apartment, one long last look at the place before they shut the door on this short chapter.

They don’t clean Jensen’s come from the window.

They arrive at their destination a half-day later, after an easy plane ride with a pretty flight attendant who was clearly disappointed when they didn’t invite her out after they landed. They walk to baggage claim and grab their luggage, careful not to move too much in unison, not to look like a couple, though if there was ever a place that would be accepting, this is it. 

She’s is waiting for them at the bottom of the escalator, right where Misha should be.

Genevieve.

They see her at the same time, both of them tensing up and shifting together, each one subtly shielding the other without even realizing. She just crosses her arms and smirks at them, one leg angled so that she’s balancing on the heel of her leather boot. 

“Jensen.” She nods a greeting, then rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Relax.”

Jensen nods back, but his face gives nothing away, and his shoulders remain tense.

“Gen.” Jared steps forward, and she takes that as an invitation, pushing up on her feet and pulling him down until their mouths touch, just for a second. 

“Hey,” she breathes, smiling softly in spite of herself. 

The armor is back on the second she pulls back, dark eyes narrowed at both of them. “Come on, let’s go. We have a lot to talk about.”

Jared and Jensen follow her as she heads out to the parking lot, sharing a look. 

_What is she doing here?_

_I don’t know._

_Is this why we came?_

_I don’t know._

Jared doesn’t have any of the answers. All he has is her dark hair floating in front of him, a little out of place in the Los Angeles sunshine. Every bit of her is a little out of place here, actually, too harsh, too sultry, too rich and deep for the blonde plastic of the city around them. The men and women walk by like barbie dolls, too-white smiles and pastel clothing. Gen looks like what she is, a dark goddess, full of secrets and knowledge that make her far too real for this particular piece of the world.

And yet, here she is, guiding them to a black convertible and gesturing for them to get in. 

“Where are you staying?”

Jared slides into the passenger seat, then gives her the directions from Misha before leaning back into Jensen’s waiting hand. Jensen doesn’t like being in the back seat, separated from Jared, and his hand clamps down on his shoulder instantly, a little too hard.

“What the hell are you doing here, Gen?” Jared asks. 

“Like I said, we need to talk. I’ll explain everything at your house.”

“But what are you doing _here_? In Los Angeles?” Jensen scoffs. “Hardly your kind of place.”

“What, and you fit right in?” She glances in the rearview mirror and shrugs. “We needed a place to lay low, and Dee wanted a beach.”

“Danneel’s with you?”

Gen looks at Jared with a _What, is he stupid now?_ look, and Jared grins. Of course Danneel’s here. It was like asking if Jensen was with Jared. 

Jensen seems to realize how obvious his question is and doesn’t say anything more, just scowls at the palm trees and the sky, a blue that’s almost white as the sun washes it out. 

Misha is waiting outside when they pull up to the house. 

“What the hell is this?” he asks. “I tried to leave to pick you guys up, but I can’t get out of the property line.”

“Yeah,” Gen says, a little sheepish as she bites her lip. “Sorry about that, Mish. I tracked them to the airport, and I thought it would be better for me to meet them alone.”

One flick of her hair, and Misha falls forward just a little, freed from whatever spell had kept him here. 

Instantly, he charges. Gen stands her ground, muscles set like she’s ready to defend herself, but she doesn’t move. 

With a heavy sigh, Jared steps between them and holds up his hand. “Don’t.”

Misha’s eyes flash blue fire as he continues forward, not stopping until Jared’s hand is on his chest. “I didn’t know what the spell was or who cast it! I couldn’t break it! I was just...sitting here, fucking helpless!” The anger is so intense he’s shaking with it, ready to tear her apart.

“Misha.” Jensen’s voice is steady and quiet, meant only for Misha’s ears, though Jared can hear it. He watches Misha snap out of his rage, watches as Misha responds to Jensen the way he always does, totally and completely. They stare at each other, wait each other out until Misha calms down, until he visibly relaxes his shoulders and steps back with a final glare at Gen. 

Jared turns to face her, rising up to his full height and pushing in on her without moving a muscle. “You want to talk? Fine. But you will not use your magic on one of mine again.”

There’s no ‘or else’, no threat or consequence. Jared doesn’t need one. Gen knows who he is and what he will do, and there’s not a word he could say that’s as dangerous as he actually is. 

“Agreed,” Gen says, glancing down at the ground.

“Then let’s talk.”

They all head into the house, where Rob, Rich, and Osric are waiting, standing at the picture window in the front room, all of them looking like they’re ready to pounce as soon as Jared gives the word, their usual gentle demeanors shifting into the primal strength they rarely use.

“This is Genevieve.” Jared doesn’t look around his new home yet, isn’t aware of anything except the people surrounding him. 

“ _This_ is Genevieve?” Rich smirks. “This is the witch who abandoned your coven just so she could be the High Priestess of her own? She’s...shorter than I imagined.”

Gen matches his smirk, hiding whatever she feels about his words, and shrugs. “I fit right in with the three of you.”

Rich smiles a little in spite of himself. “I suppose you do.”

“What do you want, Gen?” Jensen steers the conversation back to the point, uninterested in introductions and banter. 

“Well, for starters, we’re the ones who called you here.”

“Yeah. We picked up on that. You wanna tell us why?”

Jared hides his smile at the jealousy he can still hear in Jensen’s voice.

“Have you been paying attention? Tracking the major shifts in magic? Rising powers? Anything?” She says it like they should already know what’s going on, like it’s obvious and she’s disappointed in their lack of knowledge.

“We’ve never had to before.”

Gen nods. “We’d never had to, either. But this...it’s big.”

Misha steps forward, still glaring at her. “What’s big?”

“There’s a power shift coming.” 

Jared snorts. “That’s it? A power shift? New covens rise all the time.”

“Not like this,” she insists. “It’s...different. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know that I needed you.”

When she moves forward and reaches out for Jared, everyone but Jensen takes a step back, watches to see how Jared is going to react. Her hands slide over his chest long enough to get handfuls of his shirt and tug. “Listen to me. You know I wouldn’t have come to you unless it was serious.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve seen you exactly four times in the last five hundred years, and each time was asking me for help.”

Gen closes her eyes and bows her head in apology, but she doesn’t back away. “Just seek it out. Feel it for yourself. You’ll see. We need each other.”

“And what exactly do we need each other for?”

When Gen looks up at him again, he feels it, that deep, dark rumbling for her, that unhealthy want and obsession between them that never really goes away. She blinks slowly and clutches him a little tighter. “To protect each other. I don’t know what this thing is, but there’s safety in numbers, right?” Her voice is softer now, and the softness cuts through Jared more efficiently than a knife.

“And how do you propose we protect each other?”

“Join covens.”

The words just come out of her lips like they make sense, like they aren’t impossible and ridiculous and dangerous and completely insane. Jensen barks a strange laugh, so caught off guard that he lets a reaction slip without controlling it. The rest just let their mouths drop open, silently watching.

“Look,” she says, after a few moments of silence. “I know what I’m asking. I know how hard this would be even if we didn’t have our history. And I know that it’s all very sudden and strange. All I’m asking is that you think about it, okay?”

Jared hasn’t moved, hasn’t said any of the million thoughts buzzing through his brain. And Gen knows better than to press him, knows he’ll erupt if she does. Instead, she pulls a small slip of paper out of her back pocket and hands it to Jensen. “Here’s where we’re staying. Let us know what you decide. And Jensen? Dee would love to see you.”

Jensen nods, just as silent as Jared, his face probably doing a better job of masking his thoughts. 

And then she’s gone. 

The stillness that settles over the room crackles, everyone looking to Jared, then to Jensen, to break the tension. When they don’t, it’s Osric who speaks, voice quiet but certain. “It would be best if Jared and Jensen feel this out. We should give them some time to see if this threat is even real. If it is, we’ll go from there. Agreed?”

Everyone nods their agreement, and Jared and Jensen find themselves alone in a new house in a new city. Misha had pouted a little, but packed and left for a hotel with the rest of the coven, a quick kiss to both Jared and Jensen’s lips as he murmured that he’d rush right back if they wanted him. 

It takes the better part of the evening to set up the altars in one of the upstairs rooms, for Jared to go into the trance, Jensen wrapped around him, anchoring him down. But it only takes seconds for him to find what he’s searching for. 

Gen’s right. The force is strong, powerful, rising quickly. It doesn’t feel particularly wrong, nothing evil or even confrontational about it. But it does feel wild, unpredictable, pushing at the edges of their world like it wants to test the boundaries. 

When he opens his eyes, focuses them on the candle flames in front of him, he takes a deep breath. “You felt it?”

“Yes,” Jensen replies.

“And?”

Jensen sighs, tightens his grip on Jared, and says the thing they’re both thinking. “And I think Gen’s right. We should probably stay close.”

“We’ll tell them tomorrow.”

“Misha will be angry.”

Jared smiles a little, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his face. “He’ll get over it quickly.”

Jensen peers at Jared for a minute, eyes narrowing like he’s reading him, picking through the secret parts of his brain. “Genevieve looks good. Strong.”

Jared nods, not rising to the bait. “I bet Danneel does, too.”

Jensen laughs at that, an easy, normal sound that feels strange after the day they’ve had. 

“It’s pretty early,” Jared says, pulling himself and Jensen both to their feet. “We could go out. I hear LA has a pretty good punk scene, actually.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, leans forward to bite at Jared’s earlobe. “I’ll go find my ripped jeans, then.”

They spend the night alone in the crowd, just the two of them, lost together in the heat of dancing bodies, in the blaring music. When they get home, they fuck slowly, Jensen holding Jared down and pushing into him like he owns him, like he’s staking a claim, like he’s reminding Jared that they belong together, just the two of them. And they fall asleep alone, just the two of them.

Because in the morning, they’re doubling their coven, and making their long-forgotten past their present.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
